


Frequent Flyer

by dela26



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: AU, Elle-centric, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dela26/pseuds/dela26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Electricity plus metal cargo planes equal bad. AU. Elle-centric. Hints of Syelle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: Electricity plus metal planes equals a very bad, deadly match. AU. Elle-centric.
> 
> Spoiler alert: Volume 3 - Clear & Present Danger
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes, duh. 
> 
> Author's Notes: I completed the fic on a plane today, which is both funny and morbid. ;) Love the reviews! Also, I'm new to Archive of Our Own and reposting some of my fics from other archives. Hope you enjoy!

Shit hit the fan.

Elle has been stupid to think that she could pretend to live a normal life. Ignored Senator Petrelli's ominous speeches of dangerous people and terrorism on the television. Government operatives along with Noah-fucking-Bennet showed up on her front steps and apprehended her.

Elle wakes up suddenly to the uncomfortable feeling of a plastic tube roughly shoved into her noise. Elle immediately feels weak and dizzy from whatever narcotics they pump through her petite body. They force a thick, black mask over her face. Large goggles and heavy earmuffs complete the outfit. Elle can't see, hear, or speak.

Seconds, hours, days tick by. It is hard to determine time without any sensory cues. The temporal isolation has confused her internal clock, that natural circadian rhythm is outta whack. Sensory deprivation is a very strange experience, creating an altered state of consciousness composed of heightened anxiety, hallucinations, and bizarre thoughts. Elle is left alone in the darkness haunted with paranoia on the verge of overflowing her psyche.

Elle finds that she has trouble moving her body and focusing her mind. The side effects of strong sedatives. Elle isn't scared over her own wellbeing, but rather is extremely concerned that the potent narcotics are harmful to the baby inside her.

Out of the darkness, Elle feels someone's hands on her face. The mask is suddenly yanked off. Elle squints, her eyes take a few moments to adjust to the bright florescent lights.

"Oh my God. Elle? Elle!" A familiar voice cries out.

Pom Pom and Boy Wonder are attempting to bring Elle to full consciousness.

Elle smiles lazily at the ridiculous matching orange jumpsuits that the dynamic duo are sporting. The smile is wiped clean when she realizes that she's dressed in the same hideous outfit.

Elle's blue eyes furrow in frustrations when she can't move her body, she's shackled down with metal bars and restraints.

"Holy shit, I thought you were dead!" Claire-bear gasps.

"What's going on?" Elle murmurs, her voice sluggish from the effects of the tranquilizers.

"They've taken us prisoner." Peter explains, he's shouting over a loud, buzzing noise. "We're on some government plane---"

Elle's eyes widen. Plane?!?! Peter and Claire move out of her line of vision, revealing the interior of a large metal cargo plane. A rusting plane flying millions of miles from the ground. Elle feels her stomach clench tight with anxiety as she takes in her surroundings. Her voice is high and shaky. "Mother fucker."

The firecracker is usually tough as nails. But every superhero…and villain… has their own unique weakness. Clark Kent has Kryptonite. Elle's own personal Achilles' heel happens to be flying. Just her luck.

Sure, Elle knows that she has an irrational fear of flying. Flying is safer than driving a car. Considered one of the safest forms of transportation. Even safer than walking. Statistics indicate that a person has a greater chance of dying from falling off of a ladder or drowning in a bathtub.

But those statistics don't help reduce Elle's natural physiological response to her fear of flying. Muscle tension. Tremors. Heavy, labored breathing. Abdominal discomfort. Sweating. Dizziness.

And then there's the psychological response. The mind processes about 1,000 words per minute on average. However, as the anxiety kicks in, the thoughts run even faster - often repeating themselves over and over without end, overlapping and swirling together, each one demanding attention and energy. The racing thoughts repeat, they branch out - making more irrational thoughts. All the irrational thoughts ultimately lead to one terrifying, absolute belief- I am going to die.

Elle not only experiences the heightened anxiety and flooding thoughts that phobic flyers typically go through, her ability adds a unique… complication. Electricity + metal cargo plane = bad.

Nervous energy begins to spark uncontrollably from every inch of Elle's body. The surge of power forces the plane to freefall for a heartbeat.

"Elle, no! Calm down! Please!" Claire is hovering over Elle. The indestructible teenager grabs Elle's tiny hands, channeling the electrical current into her own body.

"What do you expect from me, cheerleader? It's not like I have a frequent flyer card!" Elle tries to put on a confident and playful smile, but her voice is shaking from fear.

Elle's eyes shift from the concerned youthful face to evaluate her own personal hell. The plane looks rusty and ancient, the kind that somehow survived World War II. Energy unconsciously snaps wildly, some escaping from the cheerleader's control. Elle whimpers to Claire. "Fuck, you won't be able to contain all of the energy. Please, you need to distract me…."

"Okay, okay." Claire nods her head a little too fast. Takes one of her hands to smooth back Elle's tossed hair, in attempts to calm her. "Sylar explained that you were dead. We had assumed he murdered you. How did you survived?"

"Um…" Elle starts, unable to finds the right words. The question wasn't particularly calming. "Well, a magician can't reveal the secret to the trick, spoils the magic and mystery. Really, Pom Pom, at least try to distract me with something not so anxiety provoking."

Claire smiles widely, "I'm sorry, let's see…"

The cheerleader's attention is suddenly shifted down towards to cockpit. Guards with large guns emerge from the door, attacking Peter. Claire lets go of Elle's hands and runs over to assist Peter in the fight.

"Claire?" Elle screams are muffled over the loud noise of the cargo plane. Energy is leaking out of her body, causing the plane to violently rattle at the electrical disturbance. The turbulence only increases Elle's anxiety as well as the voltage of her blue sparks. "Pom Pom?!?!"

Elle can't trust anybody for anything. Claire's action just reinforced her negative cognitive distortion. The bitch abandoned her in Elle's time of need. Apparently pretty Peter Petrelli is more important.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." Elle chants the mantra over and over.

Elle fights the painful urge to struggle against her restraints, knows that it will only make her more panicked. Elle's other phobia is being powerless, caged, and not in control. Those fears are obviously strongly connected to her phobia of flying.

Her mind frantically goes over all of the anxiety and stress reducing techniques. She's read all of the self help books aimed to train the mind and body against phobias.

Elle starts by focusing on her breathing. Tries to apply those deep breathing techniques that she used to make fun of. Hee-hee-hoa. Hee-hee-hoa. Hee-hee-hoa. Oh fuck, Elle realizes that the style she is applying isn't really the traditional deep breathing for stress, but rather it was the lamaze childbirth method. The idea of giving birth- although something that will soon be a reality- causes Elle to breath increasingly faster and more frantic. Puts her on the edge of hyperventilating.

Elle attempts to count backwards in her head. 10. 9. 8. Damn. Elle has never had a very good attention span. Her thoughts instantly move back to the small, metal machine that she's trapped in. Lets out a loud yelp concurrently with a intense release of energy. The plane jerks around violently. Elle feels the uncomfortable urge to throw up.

She tries a distraction technique and murmurs out loud to herself. "Oh my, this orange jumpsuit is hideous. Yep, orange doesn't work well on anyone's complexion. It should be illegal! I would totally chose style over comfort while travelin--- fuck!"

Elle next tries out a visualization exercise. Imagines a relaxing place, somewhere nice…peaceful. A tropical island, drinking margaritas while sunbathing on a sandy beach… bleeding from the head and being lit on fire by her lover. Elle has not had the best history with beaches. The image causes Elle to surge again.

The masked prisoners scream in unison from the pain of her electricity. Their cries move her attention for the first time to the other specials on the plane. Is Gabriel here? Hidden beneath one of the black ski masks? Elle shouldn't get her hopes up, knows deep down that he's probably killing again and going by his other alias. Sylar. And Sylar would not allow himself to get stuck in this situation. The thought of her ex-lover, her baby's daddy, is not very calming.

Electricity is radiating hot within her core, her power lights up the entire interior of the plane with blue luminance. She is now almost in a full blown panic attack. Elle unconsciously releases an intense electrical burst that she is confident has damaged the plane's entire navigational system.

"Please, just relax!" Peter is suddenly in front of her.

Elle rolls her eyes at his remark. "You think I'm not trying here? God, Peter - you're an idiot."Hard to be relaxed and cool when the plane is swirling down to her imminent death. Elle really, truly hates flying.

"I'm sorry, Elle." Peter yells. Before Elle can respond, Peter's fist connects to her jaw, engulfing her in darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Elle-centric. AU. Hints of Sylar/Elle. Brainchild of the fanfic challenge by catyuy and di_elle on the sylarelle livejournal community. I completed the first chapter on a plane…and now worked on the second chapter on another plane ride, which is both funny and morbid. ;) Happy that I've gotten positive reviews and support to continue the story! This chapter is a bit more action packed and more dialogue then I'm used to writing, decided to do a little experimentation.

Elle wakes up face down in the grass, dirt in her mouth. She coughs and spits out the grime. Death shouldn't be this uncomfortable and gross. Elle isn't dead. Surprise, surprise. She was so sure that the moment darkness filled her consciousness on the plane - that she was a goner. But…it wasn't the first time Elle has escaped death.

The petite blonde rolls over, moaning in surprise to the soreness of her body….as well as the sharp pain throbbing across her face. Moves her tongue across her teeth in order to investigate and ensure that they are all still there. She moves reluctantly to a cross legged seated position and gently rubs her jaw with her finger tips, wondering if it is , a memory forms as clear as day. Fucking Peter Petrelli.

Nobody hits Elle Bishop.

Elle squints her eyes, her mind is foggy and slow. Probably the result of the combination of the strong medications still circulating in her system as well as the trauma of the plane ride…and crash. From the looks of it, Elle has managed to miraculously stay in one piece after being throw fifty feet from the wreck. Broken bodies are scattered across the clearing. Even in the dead of the night, it's easy to spot the others with their florescent orange jumpsuits. The faceless prisoners unfortunately didn't share Elle's luck. She wonders briefly if she is the only survivor. Smiles slightly at the silly thought. Pom Pom surely is alive, she is indestructible and immortal after all. Same with Boy Wonder. They could survive going nuclear, a little plane crash is nothing.

Elle's attention shifts to study the wreck. The plane is torn in half, smoke and fire blazing into the starry sky. Brilliant yellow, orange, red, and black colors swirl together in a beautiful, mesmerizing dance. Elle stares deeply into the fire, feeling unexpectedly calm and centered. Wonders if Gabriel…Sylar… had experienced a similar awe like state of consciousness while watching the flames burning across her delicate body, eating up her skin and soul to transform into ashes and dust.

The sounds of movement and yelling doesn't pull Elle out of her transfixed state of mind. Rather, someone's hands suddenly grabbing her arm with sharp force snaps her back to reality.

"We need to go, now!" Peter. Of course.

Boy Wonder forces her to stand and begins to drag her body while he runs. Elle is barely on her feet, struggling to get balanced both physically and psychologically.

"Let. Me. Go." Elle growls.

Peter ignores her requests and instead throws her over his shoulder like a rag doll. The unexpected motion makes Elle feel sick in her stomach. Before Elle can even hold back, she throws up across his back all over his orange jump suit. Peter stops running immediately and drops Elle onto the ground with a hard thump.

Elle moans and crawls to her knees. The nausea is too strong and Elle doesn't have the energy to fight it. Her body shakes as she continues to throw up. Sweat begins to glimmer across her forehead.

"Peter, what did you do?" Claire is suddenly besides Elle, holding her hair back. Elle is now dry heaving, all of the stomach bile is out of her system. Not exactly what Elle had in mind for Peter's punishment of punching her in the face with a closed fist. From the disgusted expression across his face, it was worth it. Payback's a bitch.

"Don't worry Elle, we're out of the plane now." Claire's voice is soft and kind.

The cheerleader is rubbing Elle's back in attempts to soothe her. The teen makes the assumption that Elle's sickness is probably related to both the anxiety from flying and trauma of the crash. Though those aspects are indeed a small part of it, Elle's been throwing up over the last two months due to a much bigger issue. Elle doesn't blame the kid to not even consider that she's prego. At this stage in her pregnancy, it's not obvious that she's got a bun in the oven. Not even a little bump. Sometimes Elle thinks that those pink plus signs were a mistake, some sick cosmic joke. But after drinking copious amounts of cherry Slush-Os and peeing on over a hundred tests, she's pretty confident that there's a mini-Elle growing in her belly.

Elle is not going to sit here and explain the birds and the bees to the teeny bopper…or the empath for that matter. It's none of their business. Plus, the information can be dangerous in the wrong hands.

Elle curls into a fetal position on the floor, her head resting on Claire's legs. Closes her eyes and breathes deep, attempting to calm her body and mind. Her blue eyes snap open to the distant sounds of a helicopter. Fuck. Men with guns are looming about, hunting them. The thought brings a strong surge of energy within her. Elle stands up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

Her eyes connects with Peter's annoyed face. Before thinking, Elle blasts him full of sparkling electricity. Apparently, throwing up on him isn't enough. Anger and irritation is apparent in her voice, "That's what you get from almost breaking my jaw, you son of a bitch."

"Fuck!" Peter's skin is burnt raw, blood everywhere. The smell of burning flesh fills her lungs. Elle raises an eyebrow at the man withering in pain on the floor. Peter isn't healing. Interesting. Without hesitation or regret, Elle blasts him again, this time with more voltage. It feels good not only to punish Peter for his actions, but also just to use her powers. The plane ride didn't count, Elle wasn't in control when her powers emerged. She hasn't used her powers in months, trying to keep a low profile meant no beautiful blue sparks. It's exhilarating to finally get release.

"Elle, stop!" Claire kneels next to Peter, interlacing her fingers with his. The empath's body begins to knit together back to its smooth perfection immediately after the connection.

"We don't have time for this!" Claire yells. Whoops. Elle momentarily forgot that they were being hunted. She's always been a one-minded kinda girl.

The three evolved humans begin running together, trying to hide in the shadows of the night. Hard to do that with bright orange outfits. They look like targets.

Elle's trained eyes scan the area carefully. Like a large predator, Elle can see easily in the dark. So far no operatives in sight….yet.

"I can't believe this is happening. My father, your brother." Claire gasps.

"It's not just Nathan, it's the entire government. We need to hide." Peter whispers.

"Oh god. Are we playing the obvious game." Elle rubs her head, a headache forming around her temples. Of all people, she can't believe that she is stuck with the bobsy twins.

They are going to whine her to death.

Out of the darkness, Bennet all of a sudden appears and grabs his daughter. "You all need to come with me."

"Really? I'm staying far away from you, Glasses. I intend to live forever. So far, so good." Elle growls.

Noah ignores Elle and brings his attention back to his daughter, pulling her close to him.

"Ah, let me go! Let me go! This is insane, what happen to you? How can you be a part of this?" Pom Pom cries. Elle rolls her eyes at the cheerleader's continual stupidity. How

could Claire not see this coming?

"It's much more complicated than you know," Glasses tries to explain himself.

Noah points his gun at Peter and Elle.

"Are you going to shoot me, Bennet? In front of your daughter?" Peter taunts.

"Bennet doesn't have the balls. Never did." Elle laughs, forms a dangerous ball of electricity between her fingertips. She's itching to fry Bennet. Their last rendezvous didn't end well.

"Dad? What are you doing!?!" Claire cries out with surprise. Elle huffs in response. Now she knows why some animals eat their own children.

"You can't be on both sides of the war, Bennet. What's it gonna be, huh?" Elle jeers.

Bennet's eyebrows furrow together. After a few heartbeats, he finally lowers his gun.

"Run Peter, Elle." Claire urges.

"Don't have to tell me twice. Let's bail Peetster. This party sucks." Elle grabs Peter's arm and they both begin to run.

The sounds of bombs explode behind them.

"We need to get off of the path, it's too open."

"Oh joy, some cross country running." Elle sighs. She's never been a particular fan of nature.

They leap into the trees, sliding down a steep hill full of dry leaves and sharp branches.

When they reach the bottom of the hill, Elle crouches low and turns her head, listening for hints of danger. Elle's senses have been trained to hunt. She's not used to being the prey. But Elle hopes that her trained, predatory skills will tip the balance of power. Gain the upper hand and instead of being the weak one, she'll form those hunters into submissive, pathetic sheep.

Peter's loud breathing and rustling in the trees makes Elle cringe with annoyance.

"God, Peter. Can you try to be a bit more quiet? You make as much noise as a god damn high school marching band. We need to be stealthy."

"Stealthy?" Peter's mouth twitches to a sideways smile.

"Can it, Peter." Elle rolls her eyes. She opens her mouth to start a sarcastic comment but her senses scream.

Elle whirls around with liquid speed and fries two soldiers into blacken ashes. They didn't even have a chance to scream. Before Elle can smile in triumph, five more appear. They yell orders and begin to circle around Elle and Peter. Peter punches the one nearest him and isn't slowed down by the bullets that fill his chest.

Elle releases an intense burst of electricity from every inch of her body. All the men, including Peter, fall to the floor in pain. Elle moves her hands to the shape of guns and sharp shoots the soldiers on the floor. Pumps them with enough electricity that she's confident that their hearts have stopped.

"Chaos, panic, disorder. My work is done here." Elle chirps as she inspects the dead bodies, just to be safe. Doesn't want to get shot in the back by some silly little man.

Peter raises an eyebrow at Elle, smoke still sizzling from his now healed skin. She was surprised that he didn't use any offensive abilities during the battle.

"So what's your dealio? You got your powers back, right?" Elle inquires.

"It's… well, complicated," Peter sighs.

"Well un-complicate it. I'm sure I can follow." Why does everyone assume that Elle isn't smart? She knows for a fact that she has more brains than the empath, Pom Pom, and Glasses combined.

"My powers… they're a bit… off, lately. I'm having trouble controlling and bringing up powers that I've acquired. Right now, I can only borrow one at a time. Whoever I touched last."

"Lame. Well, we really need more guns at our disposal." Peter nods in agreement and Elle grabs his hands. Allows Peter to absorb her powers. Normally Elle doesn't like to share her ability, she's inherently selfish. All of this sharing and caretaking, perhaps she's starting to get maternal. Weird.

"Thanks."

"Peter?" A woman's voice calls out.

Elle's eyes connect with a familiar face in the shadows. Someone who was suppose to be dead. "Niki?"

"No, I'm Tracy." The blonde makes a face at the raises an eyebrow at the woman. Elle had briefly met Niki at the Company. Gotten acquainted with the other personality- Jessica- as well. Looks like the crazy bitch has more than two personalities. And they thought Elle was the psychotic one. Elle's voice is sarcastic, "Oh. Sure you are."

"Tracy, Elle, we need to continue moving."

"I can't do this," Tracy mumbles, tears streaking down her face.

"What are you talking about?" Peter asks.

"My life was finally getting back to normal…." Tracy begins.

Elle cuts her off. "Buckle your seatbelt, Dorothy. Cause there's no going back to Kansas, got it?"

Peter makes a face at Elle. Tracy is looking frantic. He tries a different approach with the unstable woman. "If you stay here, they are going to catch you. We gotta go."

Tracy ignores them both. "Why is he doing this?"

"I don't know. I'm going to find a way to stop him." Peter is looking off in the distance, scanning for enemy soldiers.

"This is a nightmare…"

"Oh, get your self together woman!" Elle huffs, she's heard quite enough. Elle has never been a particularly patient person.

"If you come with us, we can fight." Elle smirks at Peter's tone. He's gone off his knockers since the last time she's interacted with him. Punching pregnant women in the face. Talking about fighting back, revolution. After a year of manipulation and lies, one can't stay golden, innocent, and squeaky clean forever. The empath took forever to learn and accepts Peter's statement with a slight nod and begins to stand up.

"Wait!" Elle yells at Peter and Tracy. They look around, expecting that Elle has picked up

on a coming danger.

Elle's voice is low, serious. "I have to pee."

Peter and Tracy look at her funny.

"Fuck you both." Elle isn't going to apologize for lacking bladder control or have to explain herself. Increased urinary frequency is a common experience in her condition. Elle has no shame or personal boundaries, she slides out of her orange uni-tard and squats right in front of them. Peter whirls around with lightning speed, red spreading across his face.

"Okay," Elle announces when she's done and all buttoned up. "Let's go."

Elle, Tracy, and Peter glide through the forest. Soldiers are practically falling out of the sky. Elle easily neutralizes them. She's happily humming a song while killing them all.

Peter frowns at her buzzing energy.

"What?"

"You don't have to kill them." Peter murmurs. Elle sighs. Hard to argue with someone with a hero-complex.

Tracy whispers and points to a lurking soldier. "Hey, quiet!"

Peter and Elle hide behind a tree. "Let me take care of this one, alright?"

Elle smiles, "Sure Petey. But just to let you know, if you want to make this a competition, I'm ahead by 23."

"Man down. Man down!" The soldier reports into his phone as he approaches his fallen comrade.

Tracy makes noises in the bushes and runs, a distraction. Allows Peter to attack the solider from behind. The empath knocks him out with his fist."Really?" Elle giggles at Peter's inability to kill. What was the point in giving Peter her ability if he isn't even going to use it.

Peter ignores Elle's laughter and begins to riffle through the man's belonging.

"What are you doing?" Tracy whispers.

"I need to go back, find Nathan." Peter announces. Elle raises an eyebrow in surprise.

"You're going to go up against all of them?" Tracy questions. "You don't even know if Nathan's here."

"Nathan's here. Probably sweating bullets, tries not to show it. The program was his idea. It means his ass is on the line."

Tracy finds a phone. "You go back, they kill you."

"You got a better idea?" Peter sounds tired.

"Maybe. I know Nathan too, and not like a brother."

Elle laughs full out. Tracy ignores her outburst.

"I know the way he thinks." Tracy plays with the phone in her hands.

"Because you slept with him?" Peter smirks. Elle is now laughing so hard she's almost crying.

"Because I think the same way." Tracy says with confidence.

Elle leans against the tree and watches silently as Peter and Tracy go back and forth about how they should face Nathan. A ghost smile plays on her lips as she listens with amusement to their planning. Such amateurs. They know nothing of strategic planning in the world of survival on the battlefield.

Tracy moves to a distance and calls up Nathan. Elle and Peter change out of their orange jump suit into the soldiers' black clothing. Peter looks stunning in the gear. Elle on the other hand looks like she's playing dress up in her daddy's clothing. She rolls the pants and sleeves multiple times to ensure that she won't trip and fall over the excess material. At least she doesn't stand out like a sore thumb anymore with the orange onesie.

Elle and Peter move up behind Tracy. She's finished her call to Nathan.

"What's the word?" Elle chirps.

"He's on his way." Tracy responds coldly.

Everyone is entitled to be stupid, but some abuse the privilege."I'm surrounded by idiots." Elle mumbles under her breath.

"You have a better idea?" The ice queen snaps. Tracy is really starting to get under her skin. Energy boils within Elle, she struggles internally with the urge of blasting the overly confident woman into oblivion.

Tracy's voice holds a hint of triumph. "That's what I thought. Let's get started."

Peter and Tracy must have assumed that Elle's lack of response as indication of a silent agreement to the plan and the duo starts to run. Elle crosses her arms and doesn't budge.

Peter glances back, stopping in a halt when he realizes that she's not behind them. He yells back, "Elle? What's going on? I though you're in?"

"Excuse me, but you're obviously mistaking me for someone who gives a damn." Elle growls. "I'm bailing on this pathetic excuse of a resistance. You wanna take down Nathan, those government operatives with the big shiny guns? Go right ahead. I'm not sticking around town."

"Elle, no! You're crazy to think you can go off alone." Peter looks at her with confusion in his eyes. It doesn't take much to confuse him. He's always been a bit slow.

"I don't suffer from insanity. I enjoy every minute of it. Besides, I think that my chances of escaping are much greater than sticking with Tweedle dee and Tweedle dumb." Elle laughs.

"If I don't make it, I'll send a postcard from hell." With that parting comment, Elle breaks off into a sprint in the opposite direction through the woods.

"Elle!" Peter pleads, but Elle doesn't look back.

Elle only cares about herself…and now she has an almost feral instinct to survive. She trails her fingertips lightly over her stomach with reverence. The delicately new maternal bond that is beginning to form with the tiny little baby growing inside her belly brings her internal drive and adrenaline that allows her to run as fast as lightning.

In the land of the fittest, only the strong will survive.

~*~ To be continued? ~*~

Author's note: Reviews = Love


End file.
